


Let's do anything and everything, but work.

by livvy_luu



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Teen John, Teen Sherlock, Unilock, rugby!john, rugbyjohn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3606951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvy_luu/pseuds/livvy_luu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first attempt at fan fiction it is a head canon of mine, where John is actually studying Fashion design not Medicine. I hope people enjoy it! I've been terrified to post any of my work</p><p>“John, if you want to design menswear for this collection, then you have to find your own model. " John Watson is working of his first collection of the year when he is given the tedious task of finding a male model. He may not find a model, but he may infact find the love of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“John, if you want to design menswear for this collection, then you have to find your own model. Everyone else is doing womenswear.” The head of the fashion committee turns to leave John, at that very moment John lost all concentration, causing him to put too much pressure on the sewing pedal causing his garment to rip through the machine. “Shit!” the blond man honestly didn't know whether he was swearing at the machine or at the girl now walking away, he decides to go for the latter, he is out of his chair and running to block the sewing room door. He slams his hand on the door causing the short ginger girl to jump “What the hell?! You’re the fashion committee, it’s you bloody job to find models.” The frustration is bubbling he doesn't have time to find a model. The head of the committee turns to look at the stocky man. “Well, you’re not doing womenswear. All the standard models are women…”

John’s mind stops he’s lost the skill to speak. He shakes his head to bring the memories back. “How, do you not have male models? This is a fashion course!” He can’t keep the anger from surfacing, at his side he balls his hands into fists. The head of the committee takes a few steps back “Look John if you have a problem you’ll have to take it up with the course leader.” With those final words and a flick of her hair she forces the sewing room door open. John is left stunned; he hits his head against the glass of the door. The glass is cold and a small relief to the stress John has been having all week. His garment draft needs unpicking now, he has Varsity coming up and now he has to find a model.  
With one final groan, the blond couldn't take it any more . He takes out his phone and texts his housemate

Mike, you free for lunch? –JW  
Yep mate, meet you at SU steps in 5. –MS

With food and complaining on his mind he shuts off his machine and collects all his sewing gear. The studios were buzzing with activity, filled with first years all cutting patterns, and third years with stress levels so high they are all Hysterical. The building is too small with every third step John is walking into some form of equipment, if he does not get out of this hell he may blow up. He gathers all his things together, before storming out the door. Luckily for him his studio is next to the Students Union. Mike Stamford is already waiting for him at the steps, he beams at John and he knows he made the right choice to leave, and have an early night.  
“you look stressed mate, want me to take something?” Stamford is nothing but smiles and although it annoys John to no end, how can someone be so happy all the time he will never know, but right now he needs his friend. John hands over his portfolio file Stamford was not ready for the weight of it, his whole body slumps forward “Bloody hell John how do you carry this??” 

“You offered.” They both laugh at one another, John is up the steps in an instant leaving Stamford to catch up.  
When seated with drinks and pasta in hand, John can no longer contain his stress. “Apparently I need to find my own model! All because I want to menswear” John places his head in his hands.

“Can’t you use one of the Rugby lads? You’ve got training with them today and I’m sure one of them is more than happy to get their gear off.”  
John lets out a sigh, he’s getting a headache just thinking about this added problem. He shakes his head at the idea “none of them are the right build, they’re all too Athletic, Ideally I would like a unique being, almost Victorian.” John could sense Stamford’s smile “What, what is it?”

“Well, I might just know a guy. He’s on campus now if you want to see him.” 

The young designer, can do nothing but stare at his housemate “you’re having me on?” Stamford is up putting his coat on gathering John’s work. The shorter man runs after him. “if you’re having me on, I'm locking you out the house.”

***  
The science labs are all abandoned for the day. The second and third years all on a tedious trip, and being the first years day off allows for Sherlock to have the whole space to himself. How lovely. Sherlock’s mind is on his work and nothing else. He has been sitting in the same position for 3 hours, bent over the microscope looking at the white blood cells. The only light source comes from the large windows, the weather grey causing the lab to be almost shrouded in darkness. The wooden doors of the lab squeak open indicating the arrival of another person. Sherlock rolls his eyes and barely acknowledges the shy Molly Hooper at the door “um Sherlock I'm going on a coffee run, would you like one”

Without even looking up from his work he gives his answer “Black 2 sugars.” 

With that the mousy brunette is gone. Sherlock is writing notes on his assignment when the door once again opens, this time it has Curly haired genius ‘ attention, it was too Early for molly to be back from the café, and no one else should be in. From the door is a man Sherlock has never seen in the chemistry department. His short golden hair and tanned skin, he would have remembered a person like this. And then the stranger speaks “God, definitely more high-tech than my studio. ” Mike enters behind his friend laughing at his comment, although it’s not that funny. 

“Ah Sherlock, this is my housemate John Watson, John Watson this is Sherlock Holmes.” John has never seen anyone quite like this beautiful being. This Holmes is beyond words. The natural light of the dull day makes his pale skin shine. Like he had been carved by Praxiteles himself, the light hits the young man’s face showing the perfect marble features. Just looking upon someone so beautiful has caused John’s whole mind to short circuit. He in fact, is so lost at the young man’s beauty that he almost missed the greatest feature of the Holmes man and that was the Baritone voice. “Oh, sorry, what did you say?” 

Sherlock can’t help but roll his eyes, he does truly hate repeating himself “I said, No I will not model for you.” 

The Blond is looks up confused “Excuse me?” Sherlock darts his eyes up and down John Watson before returning the ocean blue storms that occur in the Rugby players eyes.  
“The clothing you are wearing, although are not fashionable does still indicate fashion conscious, however still practical, you’re watch is expensive which suggests you are definitely fashion conscious. You study one of the many fashion courses at this university obvious by the amount of equipment you must carry, yes you could be an art student however, I don’t know many art students which would have white thread all over their trousers, and the blisters on your hand indicate sewing not painting. But you’re hands also tell me that this course was not your original plan, there are faint indications of a medical student. Which begs the question what made you change to such a different course? The first fashion show of the year is coming up and it seems you must find your own model, but my answer is still no, I will not model for you.”

John was silent during the whole speech nor has he taken his eyes off the profile of the other man. “Extraordinary” he has said it before he could stop himself. God he must sound like such a twat. The other boy was about to speak again when he snapped his mouth shut and did nothing but blink at John. Sherlock finally took a deep breath and finally spoke 

“Really?” Sherlock asked.

“Of course, that was truly amazing” Sherlock notices the wide grin on John Watson's face and it’s contagious, he can feel his cheeks beginning to grow rosy. Sherlock looks to the floor before he speaks again “the most common reaction I get is: piss off.” John Watson lets out a small laugh.  
“Well I don’t think so! It was worth a shot it was nice meeting you Sherlock, I've gotta go Mike. I’ll see you later.” With a wave of his hand and gathering all this stuff off Stamford, the most interesting person Sherlock has met has already left his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe 4am in the library isn't so bad

Sherlock’s life passed by rather uneventful after his encounter with the fashion come Rugby player, and yet his mind kept wondering back to him. It had been 5 days since he last saw the blond man, Sherlock was meaning to ask more about him from Mike but sadly University got in the way. His university assignments was destroyed when some of his so called classmate fucked with the variables and deleted his essay off his computer, now he’s stuck replicating it all over again. It’s Wednesday night sports social night, and the genius sits silently at his desk, flitting between the internet and his notebook. His other housemates had gone out for the evening, and luckily they left around 7pm for pre drinks so Sherlock could work in relative peace. All that is disturbing him are the drunk lads outside…

Sherlock lives right on campus, which both can be both an advantage and disadvantage. The advantage being he is a minutes away from the science building, and the 24/7 library. The disadvantage being: tedious students are everywhere. While he works all he can hear are the shouts and screams from the pain that is his generation. Why on earth would anyone want to lose control of their body like that? Most of them are idiots already, they’re diminishing what little brain cells they have-

“WAAAAAYYYY.” Sherlock’s train of thought is halted with the arrival of his shit faced house mates. He checks his phone and it’s 4am. He lets out a long sigh and cradles his head in his hands, He can hear his flatmates causing chaos in the Kitchen, with that the young man starts to pack up his things. His work load needs his full concentration, and not the stupidity of his forced living accommodation. With everything packed, Sherlock dons his coat and scarf and leaves his room, his flatmates are no doubt drinking once again.   
“Sherl! Mate! You know you’re a fucking clever bastard.” Just as he was shutting his bedroom door. Lestrade comes out the kitchen. Sherlock takes one look at him can see the boy made out with three, no four girls and got numbers for each. However, Sherlock can’t help but smirk at the fact that his friend will indeed be feeling the pain of his alcohol consumption in a few hours. “Ah, Lestrade I can see your observation skills have improved. I heading out, try not to break anything.”   
Sherlock walks past the budding officer at clinging to the wall, “come on Sherlock! Join us, have a bit of fun.”

“I am going out to have fun.” With those final words Sherlock closes the flat door behind him, he lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Drunk people have always made him uncomfortable, memories of his school boarding house getting shit faced on bottle of vodka, and then using their new found confidence to break anything of Sherlock’s and then beat him. The lifts arrival brings Sherlock out of his own mind. Reaching into his pocket his pulls out his carton of cigarettes and his lighter preparing for his walk to the library, the courtyard to his block is littered with rubbish, glass and people. All being illuminated by the glow of the orange street lamp, the smell of weed enter his senses immediately causing Sherlock to hold his breath the short walk to the reception, walking past a used condom. People, are disgusting.

His walk to the library is an extremely short one, although he does decide to have another fag before beginning his work once again. The library is baking, no matter the weather it’s always like entering an oven. The library is one of Sherlock’s favourite place, it’s open all the time and no matter how busy it get there is always a place to work in silence somewhere. There is still activity even for the early hours of the morning. Some are working, and others are watching television. There really is no concept of time in here, you could be in there for hours and not realise the sun has risen at set. Arriving on the first floor, surrounded by science journals and medical texts, Sherlock is the only soul on this floor and all that can be heard is the buzzing on the lights. Hopefully the young man will be able to finish his necessary work so he can focus his mind on more important experiments.

John was hoping to be working from home; his sketchbook for this current module is abysmal. However, after Rugby training he had the delight of opening his emails to discover his construction teacher had emailed him to give him the delightful news that his proposal for his project was not approved, the next review is tomorrow, so still clad in his sports kit, and rugby ball, he makes the trek to the bloody library and 8 hours later, he’s still there. John even sacrificed the sports social tonight to catch with his work and now he has to come up with a better proposal! Luckily for him the second floor is dead, and his is storming through the new draft. He just needs more sources on men’s nightwear, and apparently the library has no books on such a thing, women’s nightwear not a problem but anything to do with men’s fashion you’re buggered. John is truly regretting his decision on taking the risk of design men’s clothing, but damn it he’s gonna try!

Almost giving up all hope, the fashion gods look upon their distressed rugby player and throw him a bone finally, on the library catalogue there is one book and one book only one men’s tailoring “pattern cutting menswear in the 16th Century” the news is so good John would fall to his knees and pray for thanks, but his whole body is aching and well his shoulder is still playing up. So he decides to give a quick nod of thanks to the ceiling. He Jots down the shelf reference and surprisingly the book is located on the first floor. He head straight down, he can’t help but smile. Finally some good has happened. His smile however, is not long lived and is replaced with a gracious groan and bangs his head against the shelf where the one book is located. The book is on the fucking top shelf! Now life is just taking the piss, there isn’t even a stool for him to use, and he dares not risk standing on a swirling chair. 

Then when losing all hope, his heart stops. Through the gaps in the shelves John caught a glimpse of a head of perfectly curly hair. It’s Sherlock Holmes, the man who has been plaguing his mind. His brief encounter with the first year, has altered John’s mind. Seeing the Nymph like being caused John to see the world in technicolour and once he left him in the lab, everything once again turned to grey. He had been pestering Mike about the boy to which Mike told him to grow a pair and talk to him again, but by that point it had been 3 days and it would just be awkward to go out to a student he doesn’t know and just start chatting to them. But oh god, he cannot let the opportunity pass him again. So with a roll of his shoulder and deep breath he starts to move toward the handsome man.

As he draws nearer to the chemistry student, his heart is racing. He is so beautiful, he truly is a man only worth of Zeus himself, John feels sinful just looking at him. Surely he is not worthy the bask upon someone who angelic? Sherlock looks up from his text book and it takes all John’s strength to not allow his legs collapse on themselves, his eyes even from a distance are like chains ripping his heart out of his chest. If the songs of the Sirens caused men to lose their minds and wonder to their death then Sherlock Holmes’ eyes are a tangible reference to that dark temptation. 

Sherlock can hear the tell tail signs of a sports person, the noise of waterproof tracksuit is painful to the ear. He is about to look up and tell the boy to shut up when his world freezes. It’s John Watson. In his tracksuit bottoms and a body hugging Rugby shirt, Sherlock can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He honestly doesn’t know where to look.

“Uh, Sherlock, I don’t know if you remember me. Mike’s friend… Well I was wondering if you could…well if you could get a book down for me?” John feels like a fucking damsel in distress asking a boy to get a bloody book off the shelf, it a terrible way to flirt he knows but it’s killing two birds with one stone he can get his book and talk to this handsome man once again. Sherlock is looking directly at him, he gazes not moving away from John’s.

Sherlock clears his throat “of course, where is it?” With that Sherlock is up out of his seat, John’s eyes shine with happiness and the taller boy can’t help but allow smile to form on his lips. 

“So, what are you doing in the Library at 4 o’clock on a Thursday morning?” John asks as he leads Sherlock to the Shelf, his voice also has a hint of happiness.

“my assignment is due in today, and although I had completed it all some of my classmates thought it would be hilarious to delete my work while I spoke to my lecturer. Which book is it?” His voice is flat, the annoyance his class has caused is still fresh in his mind.

“pattern cutting menswear in the 16th Century, really why did they do that!?” John is shocked who were these cruel people? You do not sabotage another students work, its un the unwritten code of university. He watches as Sherlock reaches for the book on the top shelf, his purple dress shirt pulls closer to his body, and he leans his free hand on to the shelf, his is on his toes and if John was honest he didn’t think Sherlock could get any more graceful. Even in the harsh light of the library his cheek bones still cut through it like a blade. Book retrieved off the shelf, and a small chuckles escapes the man’s lips, it is like a low rumble of a coming storm in the middle of the sea. “What are you laughing at?” Sherlock’s laugh is a little louder as his hand the open door to the rugby player.

“Well, I just highly doubt you can read Old English.” 

John snatches the book out of the other man’s hand, and flicking through the pages his heart once again sinks, the gods were not smiling down on him they were mocking him! “what the hell! This is ridiculous” He lets out another groan. Flicking through the book once more there is a small glimmer of hope, the Pattern diagrams are not too hard to decipher. “It’ll have to do.” Both boys smile at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles, which neither can understand why. 

“would you like to join me?” Sherlock asks as neutral as possible but his mind a racing and begging for the other boy to say yes.

“I would love to, but do you mind being up stairs I got a lot of rubbish and I honestly can’t be bothered to pack it all up.” Sherlock beams back he is finally able to get to know John even more, since their first meeting, everything his has learnt about the rugby player has been truly fascinating, causing him to keep reviewing the information. John leads Sherlock up the stair to his work space and his was not lying when he said he had a lot of stuff. The desk is covered in books, papers, rugby kit and drawing equipment. 

Taking a seat opposite the other man he asks, “So what brings you to the library today I assumed you would have been out with your Rugby team, isn’t the theme nuns and priests.”

“ha, yeah I was planning to go but well my proposal was rejected so I need to rewrite it before my lesson at 9.”

“oh, how dull.” Sherlock crossed his arms and allows his eyes to wonder over the other man’s belongings. A silence falls upon them, so Sherlock opens his laptop and begins to work once again. 

“May I ask you something?” John asks and Sherlock notices John looking anywhere but at Sherlock, indicating that the rugby player is uncomfortable, but why? He said yes to allow Sherlock to join him.

“Of course.” Sherlock begins to build his walls and mask, he knew it was too good to be true John will turn around and tell him that he’s some weirdo and needs to change if he wants to fit in.

“When we first spoke you said I was previously a medical student, I need to ask how did you know? Only Mike knows and I trust him enough to know he speak of it publicly” John is finally looking back at Sherlock his hands on the desk waiting patiently for an answer. Sherlock begins by clearing his throat, as soon as he say how he deduced John will walk away and call him a freak, but he can’t help showing people how his power of observation works.

“the calluses on your hands, they indicate using tools specifically medical equipment, they were the most obvious observation, then looking at your shoes.”

“My shoes?” John interrupts causing Sherlock to roll his eyes and slump his shoulders.

“Yes, your shoes, they look just like the ones the student doctors on the ward, yes you could have made the choice to buy them voluntarily but they are by no means fashionable. You wore them that day are you knew you would be in the sewing room meaning practicality wins over appearance, but they are well worn and that suggests regular use, not a prolonged absence of wearing them. So you go for practicality over taste, I can also read that you are a natural carer by the way you shook my hand and spoke to me.” With his deduction over he prepared himself for the onslaught of insults. But they never arrived, John is just looking at him and eventually his takes a deep breath.

“that was incredible, I cannot believe you can do that!” Sherlock cannot help the blush forming over his cheeks, he rarely is given to compliment without someone wanting something out of him.

“You know you say that out loud.”

“Oh, sorry…I’ll stop.”

“no, it’s nice.” John catches a glimpse of Sherlock’s smile, it’s small and gone in an instant but in that moment he feels him and the man in front of him have been tied together, whether that is a good or bad thing John does not care at this very point in time. Sherlock is looking at the keyboard on his computer and it is clear ever to John that he seems to be embarrassed, is caused a certain level of sadness in John, a gift like that shouldn’t be embarrassing.

“May I ask, why you changed?”

“Why do you think?” John knew this question would come up, although he prepared for it, he still was not ready to discuss such an ordeal. Sherlock looks up, once again his eyes have turned to ice and John can’t help but feel a like a bug under the microscope, he allows for his iron mask to take over his form.

“Injury?”

“Yep.”

Sherlock doesn’t blink he is waiting for an explanation, for whatever reason John feel the answer bubbling under the surface, so he takes the risk and allows the truth to be free. 

“I got shot.” And with that the blond carried on with his work, not wishing to go down this line of discussion anymore. For once in his dull life Sherlock takes the hint not carry on with that topic, John keeps getting more and more interesting, he cannot allow for the man to slip out of his grasp, but socialising is not his strong point. How on earth does he carry on talking to him!? He can’t think of anything to say. Luckily the blond makes the first move.

“So why were your classmates being such dicks and deleted you work?” 

“Because they idiots and can’t handle being wrong.” Across from him John lets out a small laugh, it’s contagious and Sherlock can’t help but smile back.

“I’m guessing they’re not friends then.”

“Oh god no, I can’t think of anything worse.”

“Come on you must have friend some friends on your course?”

“Tedious.”

There is silence between the boys once again, this time however, John can’t seem to comprehend the information he has just heard, he’s looking at Sherlock who’s focus is on his laptop. John takes this moment to allow his eyes to linger on the boy and he subconsciously licks his lips.

“What about a girlfriend? 

“No, not really my area.” Sherlock still focused on his laptop, missed the spark of hope forming in the rugby players eyes. John takes the risk to ask his next question.

“what about a boyfriend?” John now as the other young man’s attention the blond doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone move so fast. Sherlock’s eyes are shining with what looks to be alarm.

“no.” he say quickly. It’s a small victory for John, He licks his lips once more and see Sherlock’s eyes follow every movement of the tongue. The blond even sees the genius slowly swallowing. In his mind fireworks are flying. John may have a chance. “I’m very much dedicated to my studies and could not bare to be in something as draining as a relationship. Sherlock’s eyes are back on his work. Well it wasn’t a full on rejection that’s for sure. Still John has never felt more comfortable around a person, if Sherlock is willing to chat to him then he is a lucky bastard. “fair enough” John Smiles. 

“Thank you” the thanks is so quiet that if John wasn’t concentrating on the other boy he would have missed it. He cannot help but allow his heart to grow and filled with warmth. The two men sit in a companionable silence as they both work on each individual project. Sherlock has never felt so comfortable, normally people want to carry on talking and never allow Sherlock to finish his work, this is a wonderful change. John keeps becoming a more and more intriguing being. The time passes quickly and efficiently and at 7:50, John begins to pack his stuff up. 

“Right, I need to go. The sewing room opens at 8, another day of stress.” He rips a page out of his notebook and begins to write a message. “Here, it’s my number, If you want it.” He hands the sheet over to the boy before waving goodbye. Sherlock looks down at the note he has never been so happy and as he begins to tap the number on his phone, he can’t help but grin. Maybe not all people are idiots.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this Chapter is so Short!
> 
> just a small little conversation between the two

9:30am  
This lecture is tedious.  
-SH

9:33  
It’s Chemistry of course it’s boring….  
-JW

9:45  
My lecturer is such a bore, just looking at him makes me tired, He’s also sleeping with one of the students.  
-SH

9:50  
How do you know?  
-JW 

 

9:57  
Because the filthy tramp cannot help but look down the shirt of his new sex partner   
-SH

 

10:30  
He could just be a crusty old man?  
-JW

 

10:33  
He could be of course John, but it’s clear he is admiring the bruises from their late night activities, and the girl has a shirt on which perfectly reveals every mark. She’s with him for the grades, and she also thinks that he makes a lot of money….the idiot and the bore, how poetic.  
-SH

 

The last time Sherlock checked his phone the read 1:45 and he was yet to receive a reply from his new friend, and with every passing minute he dreads the message he wrote. Maybe he was too harsh, too cold. He’s already ruined the new friend- his phone pings and the name across the screen finally allows Sherlock to breath once again.

You, Sherlock Holmes are a madman! Don’t ever change :)  
-JW

The blush Sherlock’s cheeks adds to the boys youth and innocence, butterflies form in the pit of his stomach, a feeling the handsome man rarely feels, his curls are blown delicately in the afternoon breeze he types out the risk he is desperate to take.

Lunch?  
-SH  
The reply is immediate,

You read my mind, meet you outside SU in a few minutes.  
-JW

With one final smile at his device, the boy begins to head toward the students union. The union is in on the main campus and is by far Sherlock’s least favourite place. It’s the main club and bar for the university students and it’s vile. The nights he willed himself to attend fresher’s week always ending with him being pushed and shoved on the dancefloor of the SU, where the floor was sticky that if your shoes weren’t tied properly it would be lost forever. After that tragic week Sherlock promised himself to never set foot in the hell hole again, but he is truly willing to break that promise now.  
“Sherlock!” 

Sherlock turns around to see the blond waving at him, and if Sherlock wasn’t already in love with the man, well he is now. His face is so open, that Sherlock can feel his own Charade melting away. His skin glows under the sun’s rays. Even on the cloudiest of days John Watson would light up the path ahead, Sherlock wants to fall to his knees and beg to worship at the God’s feet. His walk shows nothing but confidence and power, the dead see would quiver and part and the mere noise of his heels hitting the ground. Sherlock is so lost that he is no longer in control of his body, the rugby player is leading his to the SU now and the taller boy’s mind is blank except for the word “John”  
“Where is all your stuff?” He finally asks as the two boys sit themselves at a small table by the window.

“I left it in the studio, I was sewing and I don’t want to lose my spot in the sewing room over lunch so I’ve left it all at the machine. I’ll be back in the second.” The Shorter man walks away and slowly blurred in the crowd leaving Sherlock to finally get his mind back in gear. Around him all he can see are the observations of human kind. The man sitting on the table opposite has OCD, the girl to his right is hiding a kitten in her student room, and the boy in the far corner has an extremely severe Oedipus complex. As John walks over, though there is so much to see and it overwhelms Sherlock it’s like looking into the heart of a star, filled with the universe. The blond sits himself down, blocking the view of OCD guy and Sherlock is more than happy for that. “Do you want to get some food? Or have you bought your own?” John asks as he starts digging into his pasta.  
“I don’t eat when I’m working.”

“aren’t you working all the time?”

“yes.” 

John can’t help but let out a small laugh, his new friend is everything he wished the small blush forming on the other boys is stunning, contrasting perfectly with his marble skin and John can’t help but allow his eyes to linger over the rose coloured flesh.

“So Sherlock, will you be going to the Varsity Rugby match tomorrow evening??” John waits, he gazes into the infinite pools of Sherlock’s eyes. He sees Sherlock blink a number of times before he finally replies with the answer he hoped to hear.

“Of course.” Sherlock smiles


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the Rugby match

“Lestrade I need a ticket to the rugby match today” Sherlock has just woken up from his four hour rest. Upon returning home after his lunch with John; Lestrade had asked Sherlock to help him and Anderson with their current criminology essay which resulted in the Sherlock calling Anderson an annoying idiot and Lestrade a lost cause, around 3am the two budding officers were finally beginning to understand what Sherlock was going on about. After Anderson called him a freak a number of times.  
After that Sherlock had left to two boys in the kitchen to get on with his own ash experiment which has been sadly been neglected. He got very much absorbed until he started to fall asleep at 9am. He finds Greg tying his trainers up in his room.

If Greg is honest he is surprised to see the Holmes out of his room on his day off and even more shocked to have his asking for a ticket to his match today. Turning to face his mad flatmate he can’t help but smile. “Why do you need one? In all the years I’ve known you, you have never come to one game, what’s different?” he watches with arms crossed as Sherlock tries to come up with a logical answer.  
“I need to look into a rugby ball in flight.”

“yeah…sure.” Lestrade let’s out a small chuckle not believing a single word. Sometimes Sherlock is a shit liar. “do you even know the rules, I remember at school you couldn’t even remember that you could only throw the ball backwards!”

“I learnt them last night” Sherlock says to the floor and Greg can’t help but notice a little flush cover his friends cheeks, Greg has never seen Sherlock unable able to control his emotions even after the time he found him tied in the rifle range, bloody and bruised. He was his cold and calculated self. A small sad smile forms on Greg's lips and if Sherlock saw he would have rolled his eyes and told him to stop pitying him, he heads over to his draw and pulls out a small ticket “here you go, do you want to head over with me get a good spot, although we’ll be doing some training for about an hour before hand.”

Sherlock takes the ticket and folds it into his hands “How much do I owe you?” he asks, his eyes sparkling at Greg

“Nothing, you it can be your Christmas present” Greg winks at Sherlock before picking up his rugby bag. “right, I need to go. Are you coming now or later?”

“Now let me get my coat.” Sherlock runs back to his room straight to his desk to collect his scarf and coat, and swiping his phone from the bed size table on the way out. He finds Lestrade waiting for him by the front door, they walk to the pits in relative silence after years of companionship the two boys perfect quality is the silence they both like to share. The wind has picked and blows Sherlock’s hair into even more chaos, the wind according to google will make kicking a trial harder for the players but the weather is perfect for a game of rugby, it’s not too hot nor is it raining.

The field is empty of any other spectators, and the other team are practising on the other side of the field Lestrade gives him a quick wave before running to his team. Leaving Sherlock to pick a spot on the ground and get comfy.

“Oi Greg! You see the Captain, we’ve been trying to call him but he isn’t answering” Greg looks behind to make sure the blond wasn’t running to catch up. It is odd that their faithful captain isn’t here, he’s normally the first to arrive and last to leave so something big must have gotten in the way. With a roll of his shoulders he gathers the troops up, it’s up to him to get the team prepared for the big match. “alright lads! I want you all running as if Megan fox is at the other end of the field waiting for you! Or Daniel Craig whatever floats your boats” with that all boys begin to start their stretches.

 

The team have been stretching and working out for half an hour now and John still hasn't turned up. Sherlock feels like such a twat, just sitting here watching bloody nothing. He’s been playing on his phone and texting John who hasn't answered any. Sherlock stands up and pats himself down, he knew this was a terrible idea. He slips his phone back into his pocket and heads back toward the exit of the field. The heavens also chose this moment to open.

John is so late, the moment he woke up it was going to be a terrible day, his suit trousers he was making we ripped in the overlocker, and then he misplaced his scissors and then got his finger trapped in the machine! And to top it all off it’s now bloody raining. He pulls up his hood and carries on running, the only luck he has had was the choice to wear his training kit. Running past all the spectators walking to the field to watch his match he’s got 15 minutes before the game starts. Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone going against the flow of the crowd as he draws nearer he can see it’s Sherlock his hair flattened by the hammering rain his arms crossed tightly around his chest. “Sherlock! The match is the other way” He shouts as he runs up to the boy, he knows he’s late but he can’t help himself. Up close John can see the droplets on Sherlock’s eye lashes and end of his hair, his eye watches as one of the drops makes its way down the cheekbones. “god, haven’t you got a rain coat!?” 

“oh uh no.” Sherlock blinks up at his friend and John can’t help but let out a small sign takes his bag off his shoulders and rummages around his bag for the discarded umbrella. 

“Here, now I got to run I am so fucking late. I hope you weren’t leaving now!” With that he runs off leaving Sherlock to slowly turn back online and he returned back to the field.  
Sherlock couldn’t tell you what the hell happened during this game, all he was focused on was the blond rugby captain. The rain made his hair glitter and glow against the blackening sky. His kit is filthy from sliding on the ground he’s covered in mud from head to toe, and Sherlock cannot take his eyes off of John, if this is what it’s like to watch John play then he will be more than happy to come to all of his games. At that very moment he sees John turn to his side of the crowd and could swear that he looked straight at Sherlock as he can read Sherlock’s dark fantasies of John taking him then and there on the field in his rugby kit infront of all these people. Just thinking about it is causing arousal deep in Sherlock. He is glad he is wearing a coat. Just a John’s gaze leaves Sherlock a smirk forms on the blonds lips just as he went into the tackle causing Sherlock’s arousal to spike even more. Maybe coming to all of the Rugby games isn’t such a good idea.

“Sherlock! I didn’t realise you were coming you should have said we could have gone out a drinks first” He is ripped out of his own mind by the sweet voice of his fellow student Molly Hooper and next to her Mike Stamford. “I thought you hated sport?” She asked.

“He’s here because John invited him” Mike chuckles and Sherlock can feel the blush on his cheeks

“I thought I needed to get out the house and this just seemed to be on.” 

“do you know what’s going on?” Mike is standing by his side.

Sherlock can’t help but roll his eyes “Of course I do, I looked up the rules last night” He says as his eyes return to the blond on the field. Molly and Mike stay with him for the rest of the game.

With the match over and John’s team winning the mass of people and team slowly filter out. The rain has passed and the sun setting in the sky. John is sitting on the bench by the field head in hands, he is dirty and tired but he can’t bare to party or even move. He can feel Sherlock’s presents and he lifts up his head to smile of the young man who slowly sit next to him.

“you played…well” Sherlock says as he fiddles with his hands.

“ha thanks! Yeah it was a great end to a horrible day. Are you going to go out and celebrate the university’s victory” 

“Oh no, Thursday’s the chemistry labs are open late so I shall head over in a few minutes”

“I can’t be arsed either. Maybe I could hang out with you while you work?” John can’t help but hope the answer will be yes, but the look on Sherlock’s eyes is as if John has asked him to run a mile for him, very much like a deer caught in head lights. Sherlock’s rapid blinking as he thinks is becoming John’s favourite feature. 

“Well, if you wish.” His voice is quiet and but filled with happiness non the less.

“Cool, I’ll go and have a shower in the sports centre and meet you there?” 

“I shall be in 0.001” The two boys smile at one another bursting with joy and happiness, John gets up with a pained groan and Sherlock can’t help but chuckles as they head out of the field.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry I didn't update yesterday been very busy! 
> 
> Sometimes Sherlock forgets the most simplest of things.

Their walk is a brief but pleasant one, the weather is died down along with the sun all that is left are the grey clouds and a light till in the air. They bid each other a small goodbye knowing their separation will be short lived. John wished he didn’t have to take a detour to the shower and spend every free second with Sherlock. He is relieved that he did chose to take a shower, looking into the mirror in the changing room John can’t help but laugh at himself, his hair is sticking out in all directions and he is no longer a golden blond but a more…brown. He honestly didn’t even notice his split lip, stripping all of his filth and sweat filled clothing the cool air is harsh against his aching skin he gathers all the necessities and heads to the empty shower room. John stand under the shower head to finally relax as he turns on the shower, the water is warm the moment the first drop reaches flesh and John can feel his whole body go lax and it’s wonderful, the dirt and the pressure of the day washes slowly away leaving nothing but the young man underneath. He reaches for his shampoo and can’t help but let out a sigh god he needed this- “The Chemistry labs are shut! How inconsiderate of the technicians, it’s his job to keep it open. “ John is half way through washing his hair when he heard the all too familiar voice. His first thought was how long had he already been in the shower, then his mind started to zone into the fact that Sherlock Holmes was just on the other side of a frosted shower curtain, leaving very little to the imagination. “What the hell Sherlock!?” 

He’s stranded that’s all he has gathered from with his kit bag in the changing room and his towel by the shower well shit he’s never felt so ill equipped.  
It didn’t even occur to Sherlock that yes shower did mean Captain John Watson would be in the full nude, why his mind forgot the obvious part of showering he does not know, but here he is, and he can see a soft outline of John’s body, he is standing facing the walk with his hand in his hair clearly in the middle of shampooing judging by the scent of the Shower room. Sherlock cannot help but let his eyes moved down the blurred contours of the rugby player’s body. He feels his heart rate increase and his palms become sweaty, he quickly turns his head away he can feel his body reacting to the situation, with a rose bloom forming over his cheeks. He hears the shower turn off and there was utter silence that Sherlock was worried that John cold hear his racing heart. “Pass me my towel.” Sherlock rips his eyes back to the naked boy still behind a blurred curtain with nothing a his olive skinned arm in High definition that it really hit’s the young man that John is indeed completely naked and if he does not pass the towel to him he has to leave the shower in such a state “Sherlock, towel” John wiggles his fingers. 

“Oh yes, sorry” Sherlock averts his eyes and looks at the floor beside him as John takes the towel from him, and takes it inside the shower block before opening the curtain the curly hair boy. Sherlock’s mind is momentarily shut down at the shock of seeing an almost naked John Watson, within a split second he comes back into focus and begins to catalogue as much as possible. The chiselled muscles of a sportsman and the tanned skin of a boy whom knows everything about the outdoors, he eyes can’t help but linger on the mass of scar tissue on his left collar bone. Returning to the ocean blue eyes he notices their pupils are blown wide and almost have vanished behind the black abbess, as their eyes lock Sherlock dares not blink anything could happen. The beautiful sparking eyes disappear under their eyelids and John begins to walk away, Sherlock releases a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

Sherlock begins to follow the shorter boy as he heads back to his kit bag, and he can’t help but watch John’s hips as he padded along the floor. “The chemistry labs are shut…so I thought I would let you know” He hears John let out a small chuckle as he unzips his bag and starts to get his clothing out   
“you could have texted me.” He smirks up at Sherlock causing once again for his cheeks to blush. If John saw the fine colour form on Sherlock’s cheeks before he turned his back to him, he did not say anything about it.

“yes well-“ Sherlock loses all concept of speech as John removes his white towel from his hips. It is a herculean effort for the genius to not let out a groan as his swat the perfect and beautiful arse. Sherlock didn’t even realise the golden hair that decorate the rugby players legs growing darker up the body. Sadly John’s backside is covered eventually by a pair of bright read Y fronts which honestly surprised Sherlock and aroused him even more. John finally returns to decent within seconds causing Sherlock to be somewhat disappointed, but he knows what he will be thinking about in the sanctuary of his room tonight. 

Packing all his stuff together John can’t help but notice the light flush on his friends face, and praying it was due to him. “So what are your plans now then?” He asks as they make their way out of the gym.

“I’ve got some basic experiments going on in the room, I’ll just work on them. I was hoping to carry on with my Ash experiment however”

“Oh, sounds interesting.” John can’t help the sarcastic comment but judging by Sherlock’s bright face it was either lost on the taller boy or he chose to ignore it.

“Oh John it is so fascinating, you can tell so much by what a person chooses to smoke and how long they have been away from that spot!” John’s heart is bursting at the seams as he hears how passionate his friend is speaking, making ash and cigarettes sound like the most interesting thing in the world. John is silent for their walk back to the main campus, never allowing his eyes leave Sherlock’s face as every little facial expression causes the genius to be more beautiful.

“What’s happening over there?” Sherlock point his slender finger in the direction of the library, and John follows the direction. At the main entrance of the library as small gathering of people are setting up what seems to be some kind of shrine. Sherlock begins to walk closes and so John follows right behind. As they draw nearer candles both lit and unlit are visible as well as many fresh bunches of flowers, climbing the stairs John sees a small framed image in the centre of it all, of a young man smiling. It’s a memorial.  
“Danny Hobbs” he hears Sherlock whisper. John can see the clever mind sparking into full gear and taking in all the surroundings it’s a stunning sight to watch. Sherlock crouches closes to the ground his gaze more intense. John looks round the small gathering of people there were only a few “excuse me, but do you mind me asking what happened” He asks the cute brunette standing next to him. 

She turns to face him her bright green eyes growing wider, “His flatmate found him a few hours again. Dead in his room, died of affixation.” He eyes begin to water, as the slowly turns he head away from John to lay her own flowers down. 

As John turns back to his friend it is as if a flame has ignited within the boys very soul causing him to vibrate with excitement, and finally John had marvelled at the demi god before him.

“this place just got interesting.” Sherlock allows a filthy grin to form on his lips before he bounds back down the library steps, John letting out a small curse before he follows suit.


End file.
